Glad bird, I do bewail thee, <br />Thy song it was so sweet <br />That Earth looked up to hail thee <br />Till wings grew to her feet. <br />But, ah! thy mate is lying dead <br />Among the new--mown hay, <br />And a fowler comes to jail thee <br />Where thou shalt pine away. <br /> <br />Bright butterfly, I wail thee, <br />So dainty was thy wing, <br />So bravely didst regale thee <br />On every honied thing. <br />But thou art all too lightly clad <br />For any month but May, <br />And Autumn rains shall trail thee <br />And wash thy paint away. <br /> <br />Sweet childhood, I bewail thee. <br />Thy smile it shifteth ever <br />As the ship that thou dost sail thee <br />Adown the running river. <br />But ah! life's river runneth fast <br />And forward lies the sea, <br />And what shall then avail thee <br />Thy laughter and thy glee? <br /> <br />And youth, I most bewail thee, <br />Thy purpose was so great, <br />But the fools that did assail thee <br />Were stronger than thy fate, <br />And thy heart it was so ruddy red <br />That every archer knew <br />Where he might best impale thee <br />And drive his arrows through.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/glad-bird-i-do-bewail-thee/
